


burning yesterday (aphrodite made me do it)

by electricsymphony



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Nic Is There Cause She's On Holiday Before Starting As An Officer, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Character Study, Earpcest, F/F, Im An Ancient Greece Nerd And This Will Be Fun, Incest, Multi, Pre-Canon, Pre-OT3, Relationship Study, Sibling Incest, Waverly Hunts Down Wynonna In Greece, come for the incest, stay for the nerdy greek history
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 13:32:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16041464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricsymphony/pseuds/electricsymphony
Summary: “Do you know where she is?”Waverly’s eyes snapped open to see Gus’ staring back at her, a smile genuine as ever but not without an underlay of worry and uncertainty. The younger girl’s eyes were wide, her chest heavy with possibility, and she nodded, nearly imperceptible.“Go. Don’t tell me where, I don’t want to know. But go — I won’t take no for an answer.”----Waverly has waited far too long for a response from her sister, so she's going to have to go and pry it out of her.Wynonna has held back a response to her sister for far too long, and little does she know she's not going to have a choice much longer.Nicole has worked far too hard for this job not to celebrate a little first, and little does she know who she'll end up celebrating with.Alternatively,Everyone's favorite OT3 in Greece.





	burning yesterday (aphrodite made me do it)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fromthechaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthechaos/gifts).



> **Notes:** I've had one hell of a rough week, and although I wrote most of this at least 8 months ago, I held off on posting it because I was unsure about it. But there were three things that spawned this decision:
> 
> 1) I drowned my sorrows in a History Vault documentary on Ancient Greek Ruins, so ...  
> 2) As much as I 125 % adore 'Thin Walls', I wanted to write some OT3 love that wasn't /entirely/ smut and allowed me to be as angsty as I wanted.  
> 3) 'Whiskey Soaked and Reckless' by 'baileyrhapsody' is the greatest thing I've read in a long time and it made me want to elaborate on every Wynonna/Waverly thought I've ever had ever. Go read it after this please.
> 
> This is for 'fromthechaos'.
> 
> ... it's always for 'fromthechaos', she's the loveliest. <3
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : 'Wynonna Earp', its characters, plot lines and premise belong to Emily Andras, Beau Smith, SyFy and their affiliates. Every chapter title in this story will come from 'ARIZONA' lyrics, and the song 'Cross My Mind' belongs to 'ARIZONA', Atlantic Records, and their affiliates. I do not own anything detailed in this story, and I make no monetary profit off these writings. All rights reserved to respective parties.

I. Waverly -- Cross My Mind

Eyes glassy, fingers twitching, with her neck craned awkwardly every five seconds, it was obvious to everyone in attendance that Waverly Earp was not paying attention to her own Uncle’s funeral service. Granted, it consisted of nothing but a few candid remarks and wild stories from Gus about tomatoes, firework burns and stolen cigars, but this was middle-of-nowhere countryland _Purgatory_ and that _was_ their version of a funeral service. They shared stupid tales of adolescent mischief, shed a few tears, fired off into clear, country skies for a hearty send-off and shared the rest of the night in drunken revelry.

That was what they did. That was who they were, and they weren’t going to apologize for it.

But when _Waverly Earp_ — town princess, head cheerleader, most popular girl in the whole damn town and the personification of what the ideal standard of ‘Wholesome Purgatory Sweetheart With A Side Of Shotgun’ had evolved to be — was making sketchy, erratic fidgets and darting her eyes down the dirt path, waiting, waiting, _waiting_ for... for _what_? Didn’t she already have everything? Didn’t she already prove she wasn’t some batshit crazy Earp, didn’t she already have a good, well-chosen boy who’d serve her everything she ever needed, didn’t she already have the life her sister spit on? What else was she waiting for?

Waverly couldn’t read minds, but it wasn’t very hard to read the transparent facial expressions of most of the dipshits in this town. Yes, she _did_ have that life. The one her sister spit on, the one she rejected, the one she left —

Maybe _that_ was the problem.

Maybe it wasn’t a ‘what’ she was searching for. Maybe it was a who. Or a where, even.

Or maybe it was just far more complicated than second grade grammar memory tricks.

Nimble fingers slipping discreetly into her jeans, she took another dejected look at the screen of her smartphone — ‘Happy Birthday! xx’, a silly little olive branch that failed miserably to denote the apprehension, longing and anger beneath — and, of course, a message gone unreturned. Unnoticed. Stuck in a limbo of agony, of uncertainty, of that shadow halfway world in between send and receive.

Sometimes, Waverly Earp felt like the only place she actually lived was in the spaces between unread text messages.

She wasn’t just attracting side-eye disapproval now, a lot of people were blatantly staring at her. That wasn’t unusual, they looked at her all the time -- with affection, expectation and admiration, to name a few. This was different -- a sort of vitriol she wasn’t used to, a sort of judgment that was far from benign. She’d seen this particular brand of small-town, small-mind disapproval before, just directed at a different Earp.

An Earp who should be here.

An Earp who should care that she _needed_ her here.

An Earp who chose bright white sands over dreary Purgatory clouds. Over _her_.

Wynonna.

It was almost a dirty word in this town. It spit off people’s lips like acid, like they’d swallowed a bottle of kitchen cleaner and proceeded to choke on their own uniformed, second-hand opinions.

“Excuse me,” she pushed past a few gobsmacked, horrified townies as she rushed into the warm comfort of Gus’ expansive, well-kept kitchen and took a deep, stinging breath — a painful, keen stretching of lungs, muscles and patience. And then another. And one more just in case. (They didn’t do a goddamn thing — she still felt like the entire town was doused underwater, and she was gasping for breath, scrambling for rope, screaming fire from her hoarse and overused vocal chords.)  
  
She walked back out onto the porch — shrouded with expert ease behind shrubs, leaves and a particularly dense and thick rocking chair, surveying the scene of mingling townsfolk, and narrowing her eyes in thought at the clear absence of Gus amongst the crowd.    
  
She jumped at the sound of the voice behind her, the illusion of stealth and composure shattered in seconds, her Aunt smiling down at her — an odd mix of sympathy, disappointment and careful evaluation. A look that sent chills down Waverly’s spine — it wasn’t a harsh look, but one of concern, trepidation. She’d never seen Gus look at her like that before.  
  
“Come inside, Waverly; and for Pete’s sake, put that damn phone down. She’s not gonna reply, and we both know it.”  
  
Waverly instinctively began to splutter out an explanation that wasn’t some whiny, petulant variant of ‘Why doesn’t my sister love me?’

“Don’t you dare justify yourself to me, Waverly Earp; you’ve never lied to me before, don’t you be starting up now. 

Gus raised an eyebrow, all challenge and resolve and resolute matriarch, and slowly — reluctantly — Waverly nodded, trudging her limp, feeble legs back into the kitchen, collapsing straight onto one of the rickety wooden stools that had somehow felt far sturdier yesterday — solid, dependable. Stable.

 _Enough_.

It was with more than a fraction of self-hate that she wondered whether anything would ever be enough, whether settling for Champ and waitressing and Purgatory would give her enough self-fulfillment to sleep full, healthy nights for the rest of her life.

She wondered if, towards the end, Wy had felt how rickety and unstable these once solid stools began to feel.

Then again, she figures her sister never sought nor gained a modicum of comfort or refuge in Gus’ kitchen in the first place.

Or anywhere in the bounds of the Ghost River Triangle, for that matter.

Wy had always known what she wanted, she just took a while to get there.

To get out.

Wynonna had once described Purgatory as the ultimate suffocation — poisoned gas you couldn’t smell, taste or detect, but still thick and heavy on her chest, a flame in her lungs and sand in her throat. A binding, chafing at rope and bucking at chain.

Waverly had tried to understand, she really had. Maybe if she’d succeeded, Wy would’ve stayed. Maybe if she’d succeeded, she’d have already gotten a receive.

But she didn’t. She never felt it, not the poison, the flame or the binds. Not once.

Until right now, right this moment, when she tried to take a breath and achieved nothing but stale artifice.

So deep in her own mind, Waverly physically jolted forward at the small, creased piece of paper that Gus had slid across the table, her expression entirely unreadable, apoker face to rival even Wynonna’s best game. With a gentle prod, she unfolded the paper, her eyes still narrowed in confusion, until she saw its contents. Then, a flicker of emotion, one after another: Shock, amazement and bewilderment, followed closely by a realization that slid into a tour de force of righteous indignation.

“What the hell is this?”

Gus’ smile was soft, but her eyes were sharp — a clear warning sign, written in bold: ‘Do not fuck with me on this.’

“Freedom, darling. That right there can be anything you want it to be, ya’ hear?”

Waverly shook her head, bristling with disbelief, anger and a hefty dose of fear and uncertainty.

Her voice was cold, its hatred of uncertainty and surprise still demanding answers to ambiguity. “Where did it come from?”

“Insurance settlement.”

“No,” Waverly dismissed immediately, sliding the check back to her, with a force and agitation that set her teeth on edge. “This isn’t what — ”

“Isn’t what Curtis would’ve wanted? Bull _shit_ , Waverly, and you know it. Curtis was a paranoid man, superstitious like a crackpot, but was never one for extravagance, we both know — and neither am I. He gathered a goddamn fortune in life insurance, and never bothered to spend a penny more than a few stitches of clothes and some garden equipment. I’ve got no use for it, darlin’ — you, though — ” she broke off, her smile curving into something more recognizable, the lightening of her harsh disposition difficult to condemn; “You and Curtis used to talk about worlds outside a’ here, far away from these fields, old and fresh, ones fallen and ones still in flourish.”

At Waverly’s clear juncture to interject, Gus put up a hand, lulling her into silence. “It’s the only thing he’d want this money spent on, ya’ hear?”

Momentarily unable to form coherence, Waverly lapsed into her own introspective silence.

Freedom?

What did she even know about the concept?

Not a whole hell of a lot except that it took a mustering of insane courage she couldn’t even hope to fake, let alone have.

Her voice was small, weak — uncharacteristic meekness and trepidation: “Where would I go?”

Gus’ smile widened. “Where would you want to go?”

To oceans, rivers and mountains; lost cities, ancient ruins, hidden structures with hidden stories and discovery abound; far away places with far away people and new and odd and contrary perspectives —

To beaches and casinos and heat, to white hot sands and rays of sunlight; to _her_.

“Do you know where she is?”

Waverly’s eyes snapped open, to see Gus’ staring back at her, a smile genuine as ever but not without an underlay of worry and uncertainty. The younger girl’s eyes were wide, her chest heavy with possibility, and she nodded, nearly imperceptible.

“Go. Don’t tell me where, I don’t want to know. But go — I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Shorty’s — ”

“ — Can do without their favorite barmaid for a few months, yeah? They’re spoiled rotten with you, god knows the lot of them could do with a reality check, don’t ya think?”

Her fingertips were numb with anxiety — given a chance to explore, to capitalize, to do what she’d been striving for, to take that leap; well, it was much easier to talk about than to execute, wasn’t it?

“Don’t let anything hold you back, sweetheart — not anything, anywhere or anyone.”

Gus’ eyes crinkled with sincerity, and Waverly felt a strong rush of affection for her Aunt – but a question still lingered on her tongue, an insubordinate, rash and overwhelming need to know, disrespect aside, and well, if she wasn’t holding back –

“Three years ago, the last time I saw her -- ” she sucked in a painful breath, as though her gums were numb with vinegar and mouthwash – “my graduation party, what did you say to her before I walked in? Did you tell her to leave?”

Waverly expected deflection, but she’s not sure why. Evasion wasn’t in Gus Gibson’s dictionary.

“In a manner of speaking – but yes. It was a mistake, a regret I still hold onto.”

The curl of her fingers tightened, but for Waverly Earp, feigned affability was an impressive skill she’d rather not have. “Why is it a regret?”

Gus’ smile was rueful, worn and tired as if this admittance weighed a lot more than she let on:

“Your sister has made so many mistakes, too many to count – but she came back three years ago to make 'em up to _you_. And despite your sister’s careless disregard for everyone else in her path, she’s never once convinced me that you’re disposable to her. I should've let her show you that, if for nothing other than helping to put those doubts behind you.”

Gus stood up, laid a comforting hand on Waverly’s shoulder, and delivered one final kick in the ass, her words anything but minced:

“You’ve waited far too long for a response, darlin'. _Go get one._ ”


End file.
